by Ruth Abrams
Chronic insomnia is a health problem in the United States, even when we aren’t consciously worrying about specific developments on the news. There is research evidence that insomnia increases the risk of anxiety and depression, and conversely, people with chronic anxiety or depression are also very likely to have insomnia as a symptom.
When we need to rest, we need peace. Sleep hygiene advice is all about creating a dark cool environment, reducing stressful input before bed, and setting boundaries to keep our beds a special sleeping zone and night a special sleeping time.
It’s much harder for me to follow the rules of sleep hygiene than to keep Shabbat. Giving myself permission once a week not to be productive is much simpler than trying to get to bed at the same time every night. How can I put down my devices and stop scrolling? Except on Shabbat, of course, I do. God asked us to rest. God told us to rest! God commanded us to rest. God modeled resting.
But now, when Shabbat comes, or when I’m celebrating any Jewish holiday, I’m reminded of all the bad things Jews are doing in the world these days. There’s a technical term for violating commandments that are universal moral principles. It’s “hillul hashem” or “desecration of the divine name.”
I don’t think I’ve ever understood so well the problem of Jews doing evil deeds. I fear it will drive all our children away from Judaism. Or maybe it will drive me away. I say that even though I’m doing some Jewish study every single day! It doesn’t matter. Every day I’m flooded by the contradiction between the lives we’re trying to live and support, and the actions of some Jewish people in Israel and in the Trump administration.
When the news is bad, it gets harder to sleep. Maybe you can’t sleep for other reasons than my reasons. It’s not like it feels so safe in the world right now. I drafted this right after the shooting in Australia.
After spending my youth trying to understand the causal relationships in history, I can’t help thinking about how things happening now will affect the future.
There’s a technical term for this kind of thinking. We call it “worrying.” This “worrying” is one of the key reasons why we can’t freaking sleep.
Yet what if we don’t worry? Will the planet stop spinning? Can we make things better with our thoughts? Is worrying the same as praying? Some people read Psalms or learn Talmud but you could just make a list of people you are worrying about. My sister let slip that she has one. (I think it’s mental and not on paper. She has a good memory.)
How does this relate to Shabbat? Can we have a taste of the world to come if we are worrying? Can we call Shabbat a delight when we can’t stop thinking about whether Judaism has somehow caused Jews to do bad things? But if I only see people once a week on Shabbat–and now that I’m active in two synagogues, I see the Havurah people more like once a month–how can I avoid sharing my worries? How can we not talk about this when we see each other?
In my adult life, I’ve always had a period of frantic anxiety and rushing before Shabbat starts. Once I’ve lit the candles, I observe restrictions that prevent me from continuing to work. There is a stop and it’s there to force me to rest. I can’t censor my thoughts, but I have learned to say “gut Shabbes, gut Shabbes, gut Shabbes,” to stop myself from talking about money and business.
I might never learn to have good sleep hygiene, but I do try to make sure I’ve done whatever I need to do during the day to allow myself to attempt to sleep. I experiment to find out what exactly must be done for me to shut off my brain. It doesn’t always work. I have learned to let go of needing every single idea to solve the problem.
I want to suggest that we find times that are not Shabbat to express our worries about the future, our anger and fear and grief about the present, and just to tell the truth about how we feel.
This isn’t to shut down our attempts to connect authentically when we see each other on Shabbat. We can be real with each other without giving up our rest. Since we are a community of people trying to repair, heal and improve ourselves and the world, it might be OK to try to do this together on a weekday sometime.
That way, Shabbat can be the place where we land to rest, the time when we experience breath, Jewish time, and delight.
Anyway, think about whether that’s something you might want to try.
When we need to rest, we need peace. Sleep hygiene advice is all about creating a dark cool environment, reducing stressful input before bed, and setting boundaries to keep our beds a special sleeping zone and night a special sleeping time.
It’s much harder for me to follow the rules of sleep hygiene than to keep Shabbat. Giving myself permission once a week not to be productive is much simpler than trying to get to bed at the same time every night. How can I put down my devices and stop scrolling? Except on Shabbat, of course, I do. God asked us to rest. God told us to rest! God commanded us to rest. God modeled resting.
But now, when Shabbat comes, or when I’m celebrating any Jewish holiday, I’m reminded of all the bad things Jews are doing in the world these days. There’s a technical term for violating commandments that are universal moral principles. It’s “hillul hashem” or “desecration of the divine name.”
I don’t think I’ve ever understood so well the problem of Jews doing evil deeds. I fear it will drive all our children away from Judaism. Or maybe it will drive me away. I say that even though I’m doing some Jewish study every single day! It doesn’t matter. Every day I’m flooded by the contradiction between the lives we’re trying to live and support, and the actions of some Jewish people in Israel and in the Trump administration.
When the news is bad, it gets harder to sleep. Maybe you can’t sleep for other reasons than my reasons. It’s not like it feels so safe in the world right now. I drafted this right after the shooting in Australia.
After spending my youth trying to understand the causal relationships in history, I can’t help thinking about how things happening now will affect the future.
There’s a technical term for this kind of thinking. We call it “worrying.” This “worrying” is one of the key reasons why we can’t freaking sleep.
Yet what if we don’t worry? Will the planet stop spinning? Can we make things better with our thoughts? Is worrying the same as praying? Some people read Psalms or learn Talmud but you could just make a list of people you are worrying about. My sister let slip that she has one. (I think it’s mental and not on paper. She has a good memory.)
How does this relate to Shabbat? Can we have a taste of the world to come if we are worrying? Can we call Shabbat a delight when we can’t stop thinking about whether Judaism has somehow caused Jews to do bad things? But if I only see people once a week on Shabbat–and now that I’m active in two synagogues, I see the Havurah people more like once a month–how can I avoid sharing my worries? How can we not talk about this when we see each other?
In my adult life, I’ve always had a period of frantic anxiety and rushing before Shabbat starts. Once I’ve lit the candles, I observe restrictions that prevent me from continuing to work. There is a stop and it’s there to force me to rest. I can’t censor my thoughts, but I have learned to say “gut Shabbes, gut Shabbes, gut Shabbes,” to stop myself from talking about money and business.
I might never learn to have good sleep hygiene, but I do try to make sure I’ve done whatever I need to do during the day to allow myself to attempt to sleep. I experiment to find out what exactly must be done for me to shut off my brain. It doesn’t always work. I have learned to let go of needing every single idea to solve the problem.
I want to suggest that we find times that are not Shabbat to express our worries about the future, our anger and fear and grief about the present, and just to tell the truth about how we feel.
This isn’t to shut down our attempts to connect authentically when we see each other on Shabbat. We can be real with each other without giving up our rest. Since we are a community of people trying to repair, heal and improve ourselves and the world, it might be OK to try to do this together on a weekday sometime.
That way, Shabbat can be the place where we land to rest, the time when we experience breath, Jewish time, and delight.
Anyway, think about whether that’s something you might want to try.
Ruth Abrams is a long-time member of Havurat Shalom.
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